I Guess We Aren´t in Italy Anymore, Maybe?

I´m not sure how it happened, but it appears we left Italy some how. We were in Verona, drinking espresso and saying ciao, when we got on a train to head to north to Bressanone, in the Dolomites. We weren´t planning on leaving for Germany until Saturday.

Then as we went north, we noticed the train station signs were in Italian, with German translations below (usually they are in Italian, with English translations). Then, the signs were in German, with Italian translations. Then the houses looked a little German, and less Italian.

Then we got off the train, and we were in Bressanone, but they call it Brixen. Everyone greets you in German.

Even the keyboard is in German. You can´t see it, but the Y-key ia a Z, and the Z-kez is a Y. And they have umlauts, like this Ö and Ä (I hope those show up). And this, ß, which is double s.
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Bressanone/Brixen actually is in Italy; it was ethnically and culturally Austrian for a many centuries, and somehow Italy ended up with it early in the 20th century, after World War 1. So people here are still very Germanic in their customs and speech.

It´s a good thing we´ve been practicing our Italian the last 2 months, because nothing up here is in English - German first, Italian second.

What We Did Last Night is Illegal in America

Come on, get your mind out of the gutter.

All we did we eat some horse meat, which is fantastic in a red sauce. (The US Congress, in an act of brilliance, outlawed the sale of horse meat after the greatest horse in the history of horses, Barbaro, was hurt in the 2006 Preakness and subsequently euthanized).

After the horse meat, we ate a some ass.

Come on, you´re terrible.

It was just some donkey, which is also a wonderful meat to include in your red sauce.